


Repercussion

by frumplebump



Series: Upper Hand [2]
Category: Yu-Gi-Oh!
Genre: M/M, Sexual Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-02
Updated: 2014-06-02
Packaged: 2018-02-03 02:20:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1727543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frumplebump/pseuds/frumplebump
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Yami Malik emerges to exact vengeance on Bakura - it doesn't really matter which one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Repercussion

**Author's Note:**

> Like Upper Hand, I wrote this in 2005, and by the time I was brave enough to post my writing online, I figured my Yugioh problems were a thing of the distant past. But here we are again. Revisiting this now (in 2016), I recognize that there is some problematic shit happening here. Most of it is intentional—Yami Malik and Yami Bakura are, after all, canonically terrible. But, this does come from the era of fandom when who topped in a relationship was profoundly important, so that’s the context here. And I need to point out that current-me is aware that past-me altered the canon timeline in order to let awful things happen to Ryou, and current-me doesn’t condone it, but is unwilling to delete or heavily edit this, because it is what it is.

Now that my weaker half is out of the way, I have a little something to take care of.

Not the Pharaoh. And I'm not talking about keeping my weaker half in submission, either.

The Spirit of the Ring. Nobody hurts us and gets away with it. My weaker self may have been stupid and naive to let himself get used, but that doesn't mean I won't give the Spirit what he deserves.

That's what I'm here for, after all. Retribution.

I like the way his eyes widen when I catch him by surprise and throw him into the wall before he has time to react. That fleeting look of fear—my blood tingles.

He growls and straightens up, and now his eyes aren't scared, now he's got them narrowed and dark and furious, and I laugh. I throw back my head and laugh in that way that makes people shiver.

He doesn't shiver. "What the hell do you want?" he hisses. 

"Revenge," I say.

He's not impressed. "And for what, exactly?"

"Oh, I think you know, Bakura!"

“For the fact that your other self let himself be taken by me? What, are you embarrassed, Malik? Ashamed? I take it _you're_ not the type to submit."

"Neither of us are!" I shout at him. "You deceived him."

He laughs. "You are delusional, my friend." He looks at me appraisingly, touching the Ring lightly to draw my attention to it before beginning to walk away.

I let him move just enough that his guard slips a fraction. "I don't think so," I say, and slide out the knife hidden in the Rod. He turns his head to feel the blade against his throat. "Move and I'll kill you."

He smirks. "You can't kill me."

"Don't be so sure." I press the knife just enough to split the skin; a trickle of blood slides down the blade. "Although, killing you wasn't what I had in mind. Not just yet." I lean in to taste his blood on the knife, pressing the fingers of my other hand into his throat. "The powers of our Millennium Items are equal, Bakura. You know that. Looks like this is going to come down to physical domination, and I seem to have the upper hand, don't I?"

He's still smiling. I keep him backed against the wall with the knife at his throat and pull my belt out of my pants one-handed. Then I knee him hard in the gut, he doubles over instinctively, and I push him down to his knees, one arm still around his neck. He's hardly resisting, but I don't care if he thinks he's up to something. I force him onto his stomach and sit on his back as I cinch the belt tight around his wrists. "You're making this too easy," I tell him.

"You'll never take me," he says, and laughs.

Then something changes. I can feel the muscles of his back against my legs—they relax, then tense again abruptly. His whole body stiffens, as if he suddenly felt fear, and his hands clench as he tries to move his arms and seems to feel the belt for the first time. By the time he turns his head to look at me, I realize what's happened.

"That bastard," I hiss to myself.

He's looking at me with round terrified eyes. I think he's realizing his neck is bleeding, but that's the least of his problems, and he knows it. "What—" he whispers, apparently not even sure what to ask.

"You're the other Bakura, aren't you?" I say. "Well, it's not you I wanted to hurt. But you'll have to do."

His breath hisses sharply. "Please," he starts to beg, "please, I don't know what he's done but I'm sorry, it has nothing to do with me, I swear—"

This isn't what I had in mind, but it will do. His begging, growing increasingly frantic as the stifled sobs begin to choke him, is turning me on.

I tell him so.

"No," he whispers, his tears finally getting the better of him. They pour down his cheeks and I find them irresistible. I lean forward and grab a handful of hair to lift up his head, and taste the tears with my tongue. He's shuddering—maybe he can feel my erection pressing into his back. I press my mouth against his and he tries to writhe away, but I'm pinning him in his awkward position. He won't open his mouth for me until I press my nails hard into the wound on his arm and he cries out. At the feel of my tongue in his mouth, he struggles more, and I smile.

I grab his bound hands, twisting his arm to force his hands to my crotch. "Feel that?" I ask him. "That's what your crying and bleeding does to me. Imagine how the Spirit of the Ring felt, when he was fucking my other self."

" _What_?"

"I hope he's still in there somewhere," I say, staring into Bakura's eyes. "I want him to know what this feels like." I let go of his hands and reach around his waist to undo his pants. He cries out as I yank them off. "And what do you think of all this, Bakura Ryou?" I ask him, reaching for his cock. My touch makes him double into himself, his chest and neck pressed against the floor. I stroke him slowly until I begin to feel him react. "I thought so," I tell him. "Can't help yourself, can you?"

He's sobbing now, and it's making me almost painfully hard.

"After all," I continue, "it's not like you're innocent. What do you think the Spirit does with this body of yours? Care to find out?"

I quickly get my own pants off and kneel behind him, pulling him up more onto his knees. He gives a choked groan as the new angle strains his neck. "Let's see," I say, trailing a finger down his spine to his ass. "First, he did something like this—" and I shove my finger into him.

"Please," he sobs, "please don't—"

"And then," I carry on, pressing in another finger, "something like this. The Spirit, however—" I'm chuckling at the memory— "had lube. You ever wake up and find that in your pocket and wonder about it?"

The boy's still crying, struggling to pull away from me. I grip his waist with both hands and press the head of my cock against him. "What did the Spirit do then? Want to guess?"

I shove roughly into him and he starts to scream, then chokes it off himself. "What do you think, Bakura?" I pant. "Think the Spirit has the right idea, being on top? Or do you like to be controlled, not in control?"

His hands are clenched together on his back, and he's biting his lip so hard I can see blood. Little moans of pain escape through his teeth, and they're driving me over the edge already.

"I'll tell you what I like," I say, breathing heavily. "I like to control. And I don't like it when assholes hurt my weaker self. So this—" I shove hard, at the same time grabbing his hair with one hand and pulling it until his neck looks like it could break— "is for him."

When I feel myself getting close, I grab his cock again and start pumping. Bakura cries out and finally starts to struggle again. "Give up, boy," I growl breathlessly. "You can't fight it."

Watching his tears of shame as he feels himself get hard in my hand while I fuck him does it for me.

When I pull out, I can see traces of his blood. I smile.

Bakura's breathing is shallow and ragged, and his eyes are still closed. He hasn't tried to move.

After a minute, I pull on my pants and pick up the Rod and stand. I look down at the boy's bound hands and chuckle. "I'll leave that for the great thief to work himself out of." I lift Bakura's chin with the toe of my boot. "I wouldn't lie around in the hall too much longer, if I were you."


End file.
